


Lace Among the Rocks

by ViridianJane



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magic Revealed, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 01:04:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14297382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViridianJane/pseuds/ViridianJane
Summary: The stream opens up into a small pool, warmed by the sun and tranquil in a way that Merlin craves; isolated and a little bit magic, a place for him to drift and sink his roots into the earth and stretch his wings with the birds.





	Lace Among the Rocks

**Author's Note:**

> Title from A Fine Frenzy's _The Sighting_
> 
> _Those salt cliffs can’t be scaled_   
>  _The evidence of those who failed_   
>  _Their skeletons lay strange and frail_   
>  _Like lace among the rocks_

The stream opens up into a small pool, warmed by the sun and tranquil in a way that Merlin craves; isolated and a little bit magic, a place for him to drift and sink his roots into the earth and stretch his wings with the birds

Feverfew, yarrow, nettles and elder are placed carefully aside, along with his carrying basket. 

He strips down to his smalls, slow and untroubled, feeling his own solitude in the air and hearing it in the whispers of the trees. He folds his clothes neatly and lays them on the rocks, careful to leave them in the sun to keep them warm.

The first touch of the water is cool, smooth… a separation between him and Destiny. He slips beneath the surface, and all he can hear, all he can see, all he can touch, is limited to himself. Nothing else can touch him, nothing else can reach him. He’s alone, completely. 

His lungs burn, but he holds on for just a few seconds longer. 

And then he pushes off of the bottom, breaking the surface in a rush of sunlight and warmth and the ecstasy of lungs receiving air.

From behind him, a voice calls, “So, this is what makes collecting herbs a day trip, is it? Mind if I join you?”

Merlin smiles, easing onto his back. “You’ve followed me, Sir Knight? Come to take advantage of me, while I’m vulnerable and alone?”

Gwaine chuckles, easy. “Never, Merlin. Never anything you don’t want.”

Merlin laughs, bright and full, and when he looks back at Gwaine he can see that he’s grinning ear to ear like a loon — and stripping, with much less grace and care for his clothes than Merlin had.

He sucks in a breath at the temperature of the water, and Merlin closes his eyes to listen to his approach. He drops his legs, standing so he can turn to face Gwaine — and stops when he sees the look on his face. 

“Gwaine?”

“Merlin,” he swallows. “What’s that?”

Eyes on his chest, Gwaine can really only be talking about one thing —  _ lightning and burning flesh; ashes in the wind _ — Nimueh’s burn mark. “How —  _ when?” _

Merlin’s heart cannot decide between sinking and dragging him with it to the deepest parts of the earth, or beating too hard and too fast until it surely will tear right out of his chest —  _ I wasn’t ready for this. I —  _   
  


“Don’t look, Gwaine. Just — not yet, Gwaine.”

“Merlin —”

“Close your eyes, Gwaine,” he whispers. “I know it’s a little ridiculous — But I just… whenever I thought about — I had all of these things I wanted to say and now you just saunter in here while I’m swimming and —”

“Merlin.”

“Just… Don’t  _ look _ . I feel... it’s  _ safe,  _ when you’re not looking.” 

A flash of hurt, but with a touch of understanding, Gwaine searches his expression, searching, searching, until ever so slowly he closes his eyes. He holds his hands out, expectant, and Merlin smiles. He takes them in his own, and pulls him forward, carefully feeling with his feet for anything blocking his path hidden in the darkness below the surface. 

When they’re just a breath apart, Merlin lays Gwaine’s hands on his chest, taking a moment to give them a gentle squeeze. “Sorry.  _ Sorry… _ I wasn’t… I didn’t think I’d be doing this, today.”

“Well, love, given everything, it would have been  _ soon —” _

Melin gives him a warning squeeze. “I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. I didn’t give myself any time to prepare myself.”

Gwaine starts to open his eyes, but Merlin stops him with a  _ hey _ , and he sighs a small smile and nods. “So?”

“What does it feel like?” Merlin prompts.

Gwaine’s hands move slowly, feeling the puckered skin and ridges of scar tissue — feels the telltale smoothness of — “A burn?”

Merlin hums. 

“When?”

_ Not ‘how’, or ‘why’.  _ “Five years ago, now,” he replies.

Gwaine tries to open his eyes again — and manages it — only to have his vision blocked by Merlin’s hands. 

“Not yet. There are more.” 

A small indentation above his hip  _ (a bolt wound) _ , an unidentifiable pattern criss crossing his arms  _ (chains tied so deep he bled) _ , a thick line under the soft hairs at his nape  _ (torture, magic and fear). _

And Gwaine lets Merlin guide his hands to his lower back, where he feels multiple small dips and tears; vein like crevices all coming together in a single shallow dip of his skin. One that Gwaine knows will shine black and violent just like the day Merlin got it.

“ _ A serket sting, Merlin.”  _ He hisses, stepping closer, but Merlin pulls back. 

“Let me see, Merlin? I know you asked me not to look… But I just need to —”

A pause. 

“Ok,” he whispers, but Gwaine feels it more than hears it, sending a shiver up his spine. 

When Gwaine opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is blue. Blue of the water, blue of the sky, blue of Merlin’s eyes; it focuses into flushed cheeks and sunlit shoulders, until finally he lays his eyes on the past burned into Merlin’s chest. 

The scar is large, taking up most of his chest. Two shades redder than the rest of him, the skin pulls and bubbles like it’s still burning. Tendrils lick over his collarbones, and drip down his to his navel.  When Gwaine’s hand lies flat against Merlin’s chest, it doesn’t fit perfectly, like it should. Gaps under his palm recount hurts made too deep and too long ago to heal properly now.

“Will you turn around?” Merlin hesitates, and that’s enough for Gwaine to know Merlin’s reached his limit for the day. “Some other time, then,” he soothes. 

Merlin smiles and leans forward for a kiss, slow and serene and at ease in a single touch.  

“Gwaine, I —”

“Hush, Merlin. It’s ok.” The look in Merlin’s eyes says  _ no, not really, _ but Gwaine tugs him closer, hums in pleasure at the flush of Merlin’s skin when they touch; thighs to stomach to chest. “I know. I  _ know _ . You don’t have to say it.”

“I  _ should _ say it. You deserve it, Gwaine.” 

“What’s there to say, love? Besides, wherever we are, I feel like it says it clearly enough. Quiet, peaceful, beautiful… with a touch of magic.”

And the only thing he can do is wrap his arms around Gwaine’s neck and close his eyes, holding tight. He lets his magic sink into the earth and reach up to the sky, just like he had when he first stepped into the waters. But this time, he brings Gwaine with him, and it’s all the sweeter for it.    

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! And thank you Peach, always.


End file.
